Let it Be

It was strange burying dad because customs here are so different from anywhere else. Firstly there are no caskets. Bodies are buried in white shrouds not in boxes. I guess because the ground is holy and the body should be in direct contact with holy ground. I cried of course when I saw my dad so stiff alone on display in front of the mourners while my nephew eulogized him so accurately. Then something funny always happens when you are at your lowest - like when my son's yarmulke blew off at the cemetery and flew into the as-yet unfilled grave of dad. I tried to retrieve it while everyone was shreaking "LEAH" thinking I'm going to jump into the grave. But thankfully it was sitting only on the side of the grave and not inside. And it made everyone laugh. My sister made sure to keep me abreast of all the laws related to mourning. "You can't go outside, you can't do housework, you can't go shopping, no music, no leather shoes, no makeup (which goes well with "not going outside" for me)". I thought of my husband having the pleasure of going shopping for me - a task normally delegated to myself - and I could see him at the grocery store, racking up the bill, "we need 100 bottles of soda, 30 bags of cookies..." He is a clueless shopper. oh well. For this week, it's gotta be.

At the funeral home, I was asked if I wanted to have one more look at dad, but I wanted to remember him the way I saw him last - having breakfast in his old age home, yelling across the room at his friend who was leaving the dining room with his walker "Max!! You're gonna get a speeding ticket!" Or pointing out a few 105 year old women by the window "Which one should I ask out on a date". Rest in peace.